


Aftermath

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a bit of insomnia. Takes place after Prisoner X</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Disclaimers: I dont own them, but wish I did. Please dont sue  not that you could get money from a turnip. 

January 20, 1998 

Warnings: minor spoilers for Prisoner X. 

## Aftermath

by Beth Hlabse  


Blair rolled over, his hand automatically reaching for the space next to him and was only slightly surprised to find that spot missing. For the past four nights, Jim had been getting up in the middle of the night, getting silently out of the bed so to not wake Blair. While Blair was grateful for that, he wasn't happy about the reason behind the sudden insomnia that his partner and Sentinel was suffering. That damn undercover assignment had taken more out of Jim than he wanted to admit. 

Blair rolled over and looked over the edge of the bed to the room below. As usual, Jim had gone out to the balcony and left the doors wide open. It was a habit with him recently that Blair knew the reasons for -- closed doors seemed to bring about a nervous energy in Jim that only open spaces seemed to soothe. Simon had sent Jim home after only a few hours back at Major Crimes when he'd seen Jim practically go through the ceiling when the doors to the bullpen slammed shut. He'd ordered the detective to go see the precinct shrink, but Jim had refused. Only Blair knew that. 

The anthropologist got silently out of bed, pulling on the robe he grabbed from the end of the bed. He smiled slightly when he realized that he'd put on the one that belonged to the older man. He swam in it, but this was the closest he'd gotten to having Jim's arms around him since the case had ended. Blair thought back to the first night back and shivered slightly as he headed down the stairs. The one time he'd tried to wrap his lover in his arms, he'd felt Jim stiffen and then consciously make himself relax into the embrace. Blair had understood immediately. Anything that smacked of confinement was verboten until _Jim_ stated otherwise. 

Detouring through the living room, Blair headed to the kitchen and put on a kettle of water, knowing that Jim would need the warm, soothing liquid when he came in. Blair sat on one of the chairs after pulling down two mugs and kept watch over his Sentinel through the open balcony doors. Jim was sitting on the cold ground, head thrown back, eyes focused on the open sky above him. Blair knew what was coming next and his heart went out to Jim, but he knew better than to disturb him when he was like this. Jim would talk to him when he was ready. 

The two men sat silently, each keeping his own vigil in silence -- one observing the open sky and the other observing his friend and lover. The shrill whistle of the tea kettle startled them both. Blair leapt from the chair and quickly took the kettle off the heat and poured the water into the two mugs and, once the leaves were steeping, carried them over to the couch. The slight click of the doors behind him let him know that Jim had come in and that he would soon join him in the living room. 

Jim settled onto the couch, taking the offered mug from Blair. "Thanks, Chief," he said quietly, sipping at the hot brew. 

"You're welcome," came the equally quiet answer. Both men sat silently until Blair couldn't take it anymore. "Please, Jim, talk to me. This is tearing you apart and it's starting to drive me a little nuts. I want to help." 

Jim sighed, knowing that this discussion had probably been put off long enough and yet not really ready for it. "I know, Chief. It's just... It was just harder in there than I thought it would be. Sorry if I've been worrying you." Jim had both hands wrapped around the mug, his elbows resting on his knees. "I don't know if I can explain everything." 

"You don't have to explain everything, just what you want. I can't help if you won't talk about it." Blair put his own mug down and began rubbing the older man's back in a soothing gesture. Jim stiffened momentarily and then relaxed again. "I can't even touch you, Jim, without you practically jumping out of your skin. You were only in there a few days. It shouldn't be this bad." 

"I know," Jim said, putting his own mug down and then leaning back, resting his head on the back of the couch, trapping Blair's hand between his back and the couch. Blair tugged at his hand, trying to free it, causing Jim to really smile for the first time in days. "Sorry, Chief." Jim leaned forward just a fraction, allowing Blair to free his hand. The older man then took the younger's hand in his own, thumb rubbing on the back of it in a soothing gesture. 

"I was scared, Chief," Jim finally said, eyes closed, not wanting to see the disappointment on his Guide's face. "First when I realized that you and Simon weren't coming to get me out of there, for whatever reason. There's nothing worse than being a cop in prison, especially that place. If that ass had told anyone else what I was, I wouldn't have lasted two minutes." 

"I'm really sorry about that, Jim. I should have known that it wasn't your handwriting." 

"Not your fault, Sandburg. We should have had some sort of code set up so that you'd know if a note was from me or not." Jim drew a shuddering breath before continuing, gripping Blair's hand tighter before he continued. "What was the worst, though, was being thrown in that ... cage for the amusement of others. Blood sports at its worse, Chief. I know we were joking about football earlier, but this is the real thing. Christians to the lions, Chief, and I was looking like a real tasty Christian." 

"It's okay, Jim. You don't have to go on." Blair had moved his hands so that they were both holding onto Jim's one hand, squeezing gently. 

"Yes, I do." Jim took another deep breath before continuing. "I wasn't so much afraid of dying in there, Chief. I was more afraid of you coming in there and finding me. You saw the autopsy reports. The men who lost those fights where in bad shape. I know that the chances are pretty good that I'll die before you do." Jim opened his eyes at the small sound of distress that Blair made. "It's true, and you know it, love. I'm a cop. My life's always at risk. I just don't want you to see me ... like that." 

"Jim, I've seen plenty of death. Both since I started riding with you and before that in conjunction with my work in other parts of the world. I'm no stranger to death in different forms. I may not like what man can do to man in anger and hatred, but I've seen it and you can't protect me from it, no matter how much you may want to. That's part of what you are as a Sentinel, but as your Guide, I'm at your side constantly -- or should be." Blair knelt on the couch, facing Jim and putting his hand gently on the side of the older man's face, cupping his cheek. "I love you, Jim. And although we've never said the words, it's in a sickness and health, til death do us part type of love. I'll take the good with the bad, Jim, because I love you." 

Blair was in the rare position of comforting Jim and being strong for him instead of the other way around. He pulled Jim into his arms, ignoring the brief shudder that shook the larger man's body. "I love you, Jim. No matter what. When you're hurting like this, I want to help. Don't shut me out, Jim. Please." 

Hesitantly, Jim's arms came up and wrapped around the younger man, finally allowing himself to drown in the comfort and strength of his Guide. Once again the larger body began to shake, but this time with silent tears. Blair just held Jim as the fear left the older man and was replaced by the usual calm of the Sentinel. 

"Feeling better, Jim," Blair asked when the shaking finally stopped. 

"Yeah, thanks, Chief." Jim pulled back a little and gazed down into Blair's eyes. "You always seem to know the right things to say at the right time." 

"Hey, what else are Guide's for?" Blair said, a genuine smile lighting his face. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm cold and tired. Come back to bed, Jim." 

Blair tugged at the older man, heading towards the stairs. "Tired, Chief?" Blair turned at the teasing note in Jim's voice. 

"Well, maybe not all that tired," Blair said, his smile growing even wider.   
  


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